Of the Flame
by IamBloodRose
Summary: Crossover. AU of many things; pasts, presents, and futures. Harry is/was/will be OP. Neither light nor dark. Rated T for the unknown and minor graphic violence. Content rating subject to change.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer:  
I own nothing. The Silmarillion is the property of J.R. R Tolkien ~ RIP. Harry Potter is the property of J. K. Rowling. Anything recognizable is most likely not mine. I take credit for any plot editing. The attempt at copying the style of the Silmarillion is intentional as this is where the story begins. No money is being made from this. This is a work of fanfiction; made by a fan, for fans.

* * *

Therein, Ilúvatar brought the Ainur from their place viewing Eä, to that place wherein He was to be found most often. For there they were shown the throne room of Ilúvatar. There it was that they were shown the seat of power of Ilúvatar. Here also was where it was that secret truth was shown to the Ainur.

Therein the throne room of Ilúvatar there were but two seats, the first being the thrown of Ilúvatar. Yet down only by a step and slightly to the right was another seat. This too was a thrown, though where Ilúvatar's was grand, this seat was of simple make and humble. This seat had a power about it, and from it radiated powers both new and old, known and unknown. It was unknown to the Ainur who it was to sit in this place, for although many things were revealed to them, there was much that Ilúvatar had not yet chosen to reveal unto them.

Then it was that once more Ilúvatar spoke to the Ainur.

"Of this place, it is the one alone where all children of mine are to be welcome. See you before yourselves this terrible truth. At a time, there is to be one where you, the Ainur, are one, but this one will not be you all, and shall be its own existence. To this one shall be given power over the Great Music, and this one shall take the Flame Imperishable, and be both made of and part of. For this one alone shall be like I am, given time this one might stand in my stead for a time."

In the passing of that which was named time, events passed as they were sung of within the Great Music. Eä, the world that is, was formed. There was peace, but with this peace came conflict. Melkor, named latter as Morgoth began his rebellions against Ilúvatar and the Great Music, but in this way, he fulfilled that which was foretold of in the Great Music. In the passing of time, Morgoth fell and was forever cast from Eä. In his stead, his apprentice in darkness, Sauron the Black rose and took the place of his master.

* * *

The soldier ran onwards, knowing that his life was to be ending soon. He, like many others, joined that great army. Some were calling it the Last Alliance of Men and Elves. They had pushed deep into the land of the enemy. They were near to the very gates of Barad-dûr. Not far behind him was a small group of orcs that had been separated from Sauron's main force. More than that however, was that which he truly feared. Behind him was one of Sauron's phantom lieutenants, a Nazgûl.

He heard the foul creature release a wail behind him. They were closing in on him. The foul creature wailed again and, being closer, the power of fear within its wail worked on the soldier. The soldier ran on still, no longer watching where he ran to. Soon he was met with a dead end in the rocky cliffs he was running under. The soldier turned then to face those that hunted him. They were on him within a minute. Drawing his sword from its hilt, he readied to fight these orcs.

The leader was on him first, the brute wielding a battle axe forged in the hideous way all weapons from Mordor were forged. In the orc's haste, its defence was lowered and the soldier could strike at the orc first, sidestepping the first blow. The orc took a grazing along its unprotected left side. Without missing a beat, the soldier spun and ran at the still charging orc. He feigned a swipe towards the legs followed by a lunge. The orc, falling for the trick never realized the true danger until its head was removed and the creature's black blood stained the sword of the soldier it had thought as easy prey.

Then it was that the Nazgûl advanced on him, wailing and chilling his blood and freezing his heart. While the soldier was good, the Nazgûl easily outclassed him. He was soon disarmed and closed his eyes praying to whichever god or goddess would hear him. Even with his eyes closed, he saw the world light up around him. He waited for the killing blow. It never came.

Slowly the soldier opened his eyes. Standing there before him was what seemed a child, though in these times the child would probably already be considered a man. This child stood near one and a half meters tall. The child was a male, and was quite skinny. The eyes of the child were greener than any emerald a dwarf could ever hope to find. The child was pale, near white and from within came a slight glow. Topping the child's head was a mess of hair as black as midnight.

"Greetings, child of men." This stranger said to him. The soldier looked around hastily, fearing for more orcs to fall upon them. They were, however, alone and the sound of the ongoing battle seemed far away. The soldier ran past this stranger, warily looking for the foes that so recently surrounded him. When the stranger spoke again, and this soldier was compelled to look.

"Those that would hunt you were soon become the hunted. Long have these days been, a winter for the free peoples of Middle Earth. Be ye healed and made strong, ere you fall before your task is done." Saying this, the stranger raised an arm and pointed at him. The stranger began muttering in some foreign tongue, and slowly the hand pointed at him began to glow a faint white. After a moment, the light rushed from the stranger's hand and surrounded the soldier.

With that the world was flooded with white light once more. The sound of battle surrounded the soldier. This soldier went on towards the heart of the conflict, he felt something drawing him there. As he got there he saw his king doing battle with Sauron himself. Sauron got a hit in with his mace and the king's body was thrown near him. He rushed to the king's side, but little there was that he could do.

Isildur took his father's blade even as Sauron stepped on it. The blade was broken. Sauron was reaching for him. There on his hand was the One Ring. Isildur reacted, swinging the sword that was broken wildly. By chance of luck, he removed Sauron's hand. Having poured much of his power into the One Ring, the sudden removal of the One Ring from his living person caused Sauron's power to be broken.

The battle ended swiftly, the enemy being routed to dark holes and caves where they would stay for some time. Yet some survived. Isildur was ambushed on the return to his kingdom and was killed trying to flee the battle. There, in the Great River, the One Ring was lost for time out of mind. From there Smeagol would one day claim it as his birthday present after he murders his brother, for the malice of the ring had already begun to corrupt him. Smeagol would go on to be called Gollum, and, thanks to the power of the One Ring, his life was greatly extended.

* * *

AN:  
So, this is my first real attempt at writing a crossover, and a fanfiction in general. I wonder who the kid is... ;) ;) (read: Character 1) As a general heads up:  
a.) Don't know whether this is past, present, or future.  
b.) How often I'll be able to write (college student life.)  
c.) Harry will be OP. This is intentional, obviously. If that is not your cup of tea, thanks for at least reading this chapter, and I'm sorry I can't keep you. If an OP Harry is your cup of tea, we are like minded individuals.  
d.) Read, review, rate, follow. Those are all cool and stuff. Haters are going to hate, but for those who appreciate: *insert Titanium music video*

AN2 EDIT:

Okay, so I don't know wtf happened with the formatting, it was not that bad before I uploaded the doc. Apologies to all who had to struggle through that, and I hope that the issue has been resolved.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer:  
I own nothing. The Silmarillion is the property of J. R. R. Tolkien ~ RIP. Harry Potter is the property of J. K. Rowling. Anything recognizable is most likely not mine. I take credit for any plot editing. The attempt at copying the style of the Silmarillion is intentional as this is where the story begins. No money is being made from this. This is a work of fanfiction; made by a fan, for fans.

* * *

The Ainur had left the throne room for a time, and for that time Ilúvatar sat in thought of his Music. He alone knew that in the passing of time, change would come to his music, change outside of his own control. In this change, all things shall follow. And he was made sad as he listened to his Music. Angry, he grew, for it was his creation, and wished for it to be untainted by change outside of his will. As his anger grew, the desire within him to rend the Music asunder grew also.

Then, at the height of his anger, he drew himself up and made ready to rend his Music. He was stopped then, when he heard something new. Ilúvatar stopped, and listened to his Music. There in the Music he found comfort, for the change which so scared and angered him was watched over by his _Hinen'val_ , and because of this he was made glad.

Eru Ilúvatar then turned his thoughts towards those sons who were with him. He thought first of Melkor, and thought of the grace and peace that would be found in the passing of time, even if that time came much later in the music, and He was also touched by sadness from knowing what his child must go through.

Ilúvatar's thoughts then turned to his other sons, of mighty Manwë, lord of the Ainur or as they would later be called the Valar. To Manwë was given power of the winds and the air, and he was to be king of the Ainur. With Manwë was Ulmo, to whom was granted rule of the oceans, and water in general.

Aulë, the fashioner and crafter of those things of which Arda was made, he was also master of all the smiths and things concerning them. Oromë, the horn-blower was master of the hunt, and his domain was the wild reaches, creatures, and all other things that may be found.

Next in the thoughts of Ilúvatar came Námo, who also went by the name Mandos. He is one of three judges of those who have moved past their mortal shells. With Mandos is Irmo, or Lórien, to him was given the responsibility of dreams, desires, and visions. Last among the kings of the Ainur is Tulkas, and his domain was all that encompasses the topic of war.

Eru Ilúvatar moved on then, and his thoughts became focused on his daughters. First in His thoughts was Varda, to whom the responsibility of the stars of the night was given. After Varda came Yavanna. Yavanna was tasked with being the master of all things that can be grown, her favourite being fruit.

Next came Nienna, and to her was given responsibility of mercy and grief. Nienna was followed by Estë. Estë restored the spirits and strengths of those who laboured, giving freely to those who came. With Estë was Vairë. Vairë wove the story of Arda, a story that the walls of Mandos held in their shape and form.

Last in Eru Ilúvatar's thoughts, though by no means the least, were his daughters Vána and Nessa. To Vána was the task of maintaining the youth of all living things that dwelt in Arda. Nessa was of sure foot, and speed, but also held within a certain grace, and was known for dancing.

In the scheme of all things within the world, the Valar Kings each took to themselves a Valar Queen, and each Queen took to themselves a King, save for Ulmo and Melkor who each remained on their own.

Manwë took Varda.

Yavanna took Aulë.

Oromë took Vána.

Vairë took Mandos.

Irmo took Estë.

Nessa took Tulkas.

* * *

He walked alone. He was _Hinen'val_. The _Marde en' eresse_ had been his home for time out of mind. To him was given power over the Great Music.

 _Hinen'val_ was sad. Sad and angry. For he was graced with the powers that existed now, and powers that were yet to be. Yet he could do nothing! The peoples of Arda were tearing it apart.

He longed to be able to intervene, to change the course of events. He couldn't. It was not his right. Yet he carried within him a duty of care.

The _Marde en' eresse_ was a labyrinth. To find your way you must first be lost yourself. Sometimes, he would run into his brothers or sisters, the Valar. Yet they kept themselves distant, fearing him and what he could do. On occasion, he could find Eru Ilúvatar himself. They need not talk, for understanding was passed between them by their mere presences.

Sometimes one could find a shade from the Halls of Mandos. They were good with advising on ideas that would end only in trouble or despair. They were less helpful in terms of identifying truly good ideas, their personal experiences being the limit of their capacity to render aide.

Other times, one could find whispers of people that were yet to come into existence. They would be filled with the thoughts and ideas that they would have when it was their time to enter the world.

More than his sadness, however. _Hinen'val_ was lonely. For him to grow to be that which he was to become, he had to endure the long wait that was time. The elves and men had called this period adolescence. A time of growth, a time where, to the person experiencing it, nothing was quite certain.

It was maddening, for he was forbidden from looking in to the Great Music to see the end, for to do so would destroy that end and create a new one, and the damage that could do was outside his understanding yet.

Even so, in the passing of time, the pain of this phase grew less than it once was. He explored what ideas he could, and worked on those powers he was permitted to use.

As he was walking, _Hinen'val_ found himself in a room with a single door. The door stood in the middle of the room, and was made of a deep darkness. He walked around the door, but never touched it. He had been warned before that his powers were present, even in his very skin.

Unlike the other Powers, he was confined to a single form. _Hinen'val_ 's from was like that of a child, and yet older than that. His skin was nearing white in complexion. Atop his head was hair that was long, falling into his face at times. The hair was as dark as the door he was evaluating.

His eyes were like emeralds, save for his pupils, which matched his hair. There was a fire in his eyes, speaking of the power that bristled just under and even within his skin.

He was on his third pass around the door when he heard Him.

" _Utinu_? How is it that you have come to find this place?"

" _Eru-Atar_. You made this place and yet you know not that to find your way, you must first be lost? Perhaps you are losing your edge, or it may be that you are growing senile in your advanced age."

Ilúvatar glared at his _Hinen'val_ , although it held no malice or even true anger… something more along the lines of resentment at the mixing of his names.

" _Utinu_ , that door leads to the abyss… the prison wherein Melkor is to be held, until his return into the Music. This room has been sealed of entry to all but me."

"Oh."

"Oh?" Ilúvatar asked.

"What am I to say? I was trying to regain control of my emotions, for they were running rampent yet again. Is there no way for me to help the peoples of Arda?"

" _Utinu_ , you know full well you cannot interfere in mortal events, until it is your time to walk upon Arda."

" _Atar_ , is there nothing to be done? Your Music is having the peoples of Arda go through hardship after hardship. If it is to be within my power, I would give them hope, if I cannot give them victory. Even a reprieve would be better "

"…There is a way, but you would not be able to be with me for a long time. Also, your powers would be restricted, to what level, I am not yet sure. And you would experience such struggles and suffering as you have never experienced anything before."

There is a stagnant silence. With both sides weighing what the other is thinking. Then Eru Ilúvatar sighed.

" _Utinu, I shall make ready those things that need be prepared for this."_

" _Atar…_ "

"You need say nothing, you are right. And perhaps it is time."

"I will be ready."

* * *

AN:

Whelp… Holy Shit! I was not expecting the audience numbers. ~200 views on the first chapter of my first fic? Damn… you people are awesome! So, this fic is kind of a filler, providing some background for people who haven't read The Silmarillion. I have portrayed Ilúvatar and _Hinen'val_ closer to human than I personally like, but I don't quite know how to do the whole "higher conscience" thing. If I could, I would, but I can't so I didn't.

Just a little FYI, I am not an English Major. Computer Science for now, so my writing definitely has room to grow and improve.

Any advice you guys have is appreciated.

As always, read, review, rate, follow. Those are all cool and stuff. Haters are going to hate, but for those who appreciate: *insert Titanium music video*


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer:  
I own nothing. The Silmarillion & other works are the property of J.R. R Tolkien ~ RIP. Harry Potter is the property of J. K. Rowling. Anything recognizable is most likely not mine. I take credit for any plot editing. The attempt at copying the style of the Silmarillion is intentional as this is where the story begins. No money is being made from this. This is a work of fanfiction; made by a fan, for fans.

* * *

Elrond was walking through one of the halls of Imladris. As it so happened, he was passing by the shards of Narcil. There he saw a shrouded figure. Another elf was walking towards him.

"My Lord Elrond, the figure by the shards, do you know him?" The elf asked of him in elvish.

"No… I have not seen him within Imladris, nor any of the other elven kingdoms when I have visited them in the past." Elrond replied to the guard.

"Shall I send for more guards?"

"No, I shall take care of this myself." Elrond replied.

"My Lord?" The elf asked him questioningly.

Elrond simply smirked and moved one of his arms to brush at the side of his robes. There the guard caught a glance of a sword hilt at the waist of Lord Elrond. The guard gave a half smile and nodded his head slightly in acknowledgement.

"If you need assistance my Lord, I shall be around." The elf guard said before bowing slightly and walking down the hall from which Elrond had come.

Elrond turned and walk towards the figure. Elrond stopped at a distance where he could draw his sword if needed, but also made him look almost casual.

"Greetings and welcome to Imladris, friend. Forgive me, but I know not of who you are." Elrond opened his conversation with the figure in the common tongue, not knowing what language the figure spoke.

The figure turned towards Elrond slightly, and Elrond could see the figure's eyes. Those eyes stared back at him, without fear, and within them burned a type of fire that screamed power, yet not of evil. "With five I came, but I was not of the five. Nor was I directly with the five. For they differed from me, and I from them. Perhaps less now, for now we are all of flesh and blood."

"These five you speak of, who are they?" Elrond asked.

There was a pause for a moment before the figure spoke again. "Of the five, two wore blue. One wore brown. One wore grey. The last wore white. They were Istari. Wizards."

"Indeed?" said Elrond, although it sounded more like a question. "Yet if what you say is true, then what are you, for you said yourself that you were different?"

"True enough." the stranger said, and his tone told Elrond that the stranger was smiling slightly. "For all their power, the Istari could not beat me if they combined all their power and worked against me. It would be like five flies trying to move a mountain."

"I see." Elrond said. He stood there in thought for a moment "Are you a threat to the elves that live here?"

"I am most definitely a threat to all who live in Arda." The stranger said, making Elrond turn slightly and reach for the hilt of his sword. "But," the stranger continued "I will not harm those who do no harm to me. There may come a time when there will be people under my care or protection. If that time comes, those who would hurt mine, or seek to hurt mine will find me… extremely hostile."

"If your word is true, you are most welcome here in Imladris." Elrond said, relaxing from his position.

"My thanks to you, Lord Elrond."

"I do not recall telling you my name, yet you know it?" Elrond asked of the stranger.

"I am young in body, and as such, my hearing is quite keen." The stranger said, and Elrond could clearly hear the joking tone. "Although for their appearances, the Istari are more able than they look."

"Quite. Does that mean you speak elvish?"

"Read and write." The stranger said twice, once in the Sindarin dialect and once in the Quenya dialect. "As for my name, I have not taken one yet. _Ettelen Umbar,_ I think."

"I cannot say whether it is good or bad, nor can I say if it suits you. The name one chooses is like a promise, and you will be held to it by yourself if your will is strong, and if your will is lacking, you will be held to it by those around you.

"Your presence disturbed one of my guards." Elrond said.

"Indeed? My apologies, I came here at random. I plan to visit all the elven domains."

"Soon?"

"I cannot say. My path is unknown, even to me."

"Is that not the way in which we live?" Elrond asked of Ettelen.

"For many, yes. Yet for every rule, there is an exception. I was one of those exceptions once."

"I see. Are you curious about the shards?"

"Indeed."

"Before you lay the shards of Narcil, the Sword wielded by the late Kings of Gondor."

"Ah, yes. I remember now. I was there, Lord Elrond. I was there almost 1000 years ago. I saved the life of a soldier who had gotten separated from the main body of the combined armies. He had run afoul of a Nazgûl, as I recall. Isildur, was his name.

Elrond's jaw dropped. "You say you are young, and yet to hear that you were involved with events nearly 1000 years ago seems to be rather… conflicting." Elrond finally managed to say.

 _Ettelen_ chuckled. "Yes, Lord Elrond, they do seem to conflict." The Ettelen turned and walked away from the Shards, moving towards a window, through which he could see one of the gardens of Imladris. "Isildur was by no means a friend, but it still hurt to know that through him he strength of men has faltered."

"Faltered? The strength of men fell that day." Elrond stated bitterly. "Isildur had but one task to do, and the world would have been purged of such evil; instead he chose to keep that accursed ring, only to lose it along with his life."

"And yet you would damn all men? A people who have much yet to learn, and so much room to grow? Would you take from them to right the wrongs of the past? _Ettelen_ said in an affronted, if not accusing, tone.

"Perhaps you are right, but as things stand right now, evil has been allowed to persist in this world. Even now, Imladris is still threatened by orcs, goblins, and other creatures that should have returned to the wretched holes from which they were spawned. The dwarves are withdrawing to their mines and treasures and grow prideful, to speak nothing of the declining relations with them. The men are young and foolhardy; they are foolhardy and hasty. What reason do we have to trust in their strength, let alone the strength of any other race?"

 _Ettelen_ stood there looking at the garden. He took his hood and threw it back, revealing his head for the first time. Then he turned back and looked at Elrond. "I cannot change your mind." And here, he smiled slightly, "Come now, tell me about these troubles you said that threaten Imladris. I think I shall put you under my protection… for as long as I say, provided you let me stay."

"You would be most welcome here amongst us."

"My thanks, Lord Elrond."

"Our borders are watched by creatures of the wild by day, and creatures of the dark by night. It has been nearly 1000 years since his peace has started, and yet my people and many of the free people live in fear. It should not be this way."

 _Ettelen_ smiled and started walking, only pausing for Elrond to join him. "Give me time, and I will have Imladris protected. Before I do that however, I am going to need a staff."

Elrond stumbled a bit as he registered what _Ettelen_ said. "You boasted of your power, and yet you must use an instrument of their order?" He said, choking a bit as he chuckled at the irony of that statement.

"I could use my power, without a staff, but it would be unfocused and uncontrolled. I would rather not remove Imladris from Arda." _Ettelen_ countered.

"I see your point, and I would prefer it if that were to not happen." Elrond conceded.

"Excellent! I thought you were a man… well, elf, of reason!" _Ettelen_ said cheerfully as he walked with Elrond into the heart of Imladris.

* * *

AN:

You people are freaking awesome, pushing the story to 800+ views! You people are the best. Feel free to write reviews. I encourage it. Ugh… So. Much. Dialogue. That took for freaking ever. I haven't done a lot of dialogue writing, so any feedback will be appreciated. I want to have the best content possible for you guys.

So, in the last chapter of OtF, I used some elvish. I meant to include translations in the AN for that chapter, but I quite obviously did not. For those reading, I expect you to know what Imladris is, and so it has not been italicized. If you are a reader, and don't know what Imladris is, it will be in the translations for this chapter.

The translations for Chapter 2 are:

 _Hinen'val_ – Child of Power

(Pronounced High-ni-vaal)

 _Marde en' eresse_ – Hall of Solitude

(Pronounced Mar-day en air-say)

 _Utinu_ – Son

(Pronounced Ooh-tin-ooh)

 _Atar_ – Father

(Pronounced A-dar)

The translations for Chapter 3 are:

 _Ettelen Umbar_ – Foreign Fate

(Pronounced Et-all-en Um-bar)

imlad – narrow valley

-rist – to cleave, cut

So, Imladris is "cloven valley." Google it if you need more help understanding.

As always, read, review, rate, follow. Those are all cool and stuff. Haters are going to hate, but for those who appreciate: *insert Titanium music video*


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